Netflix’s new British crime drama asks the hard questions about growing up in a digital world.

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Even before a single episode of Adolescence went up on Netflix, the five star reviews started rolling in. The Guardian called the new British drama “the closest thing to TV perfection in decades”, others described it as an “all-time technical masterpiece”, “a harrowing, heartbreaking must-watch”, and “how crime dramas should be done”. Such universal praise of a new TV show is rare, but when the show debuted last week, audiences were also quick to respond. In its first four days on Netflix, Adolescence received a whopping 24.3 million views from viewers around the globe, making it the top-watched series in over 71 countries. 

It’s no wonder: Adolescence is one of the most powerful shows I’ve watched. The four-part drama was created and written by actor Stephen Graham (who also stars in the series) and Jack Thorne (Toxic Town), and is directed by Philip Barantini (Boiling Point). It deals with the devastating events after a 13-year-old boy is accused of murder, as the boy’s family, school and psychologist try to understand what has happened. It’s an intense and heartbreaking drama, but it’s also the best show you’ll see this year.   

Much of Adolescence’s emotional force lies in the storytelling. Each episode is filmed as a single, continuous shot, a style Barantini used in Boiling Point (which also starred Graham). It means that for the entirety of every episode, the camera never cuts from the drama – the story unfolds in real time, making it feel like we’re in the room with these characters, learning about this crime in the same way that Jamie’s parents are learning about it. That powerful single shot immerses us completely in this particular time and place, sustaining the tension so we never get a chance to look away. 

The first episode in particular is an astonishing piece of television. It begins with the early morning arrest of Jamie, a violent and disorienting event that changes everything for his family. We follow the police as they burst up the stairs and we sit inside the van with Jamie as he’s driven to the police station. There, the single camera takes us on a tightly choreographed dance, leading us upstairs as the detectives discuss the case and back again to meet Jamie’s lawyer. The Miller family arrive, confused and worried, abruptly thrown into a system they know nothing about. 

The rest of Adolescence follows the ripples in this tragic pond. Episode two takes place three days after the murder, as the detectives visit Jamie’s school in search of the murder weapon. The third is set seven months later, a taut, suffocating episode that reveals Jamie’s frame of mind during an interview with his psychologist, while the finale unfolds 13 months after the crime as the Millers try to adjust to their new normal. Not every episode packs the same bewildering punch of the first, but together, they are an accomplished piece of television that fills you with both dread and wonder. 

That’s partly due to the incredible performances, led by the always brilliant Graham. As Jamie’s dad Eddie, Graham moves through every possible emotion as he processes what his son has become. Erin Doherty, Ashley Walters and Christine Tremaco are all impressive, but it’s 15-year-old Owen Cooper as Jamie who is the breakthrough star of the show. In his first acting role, Cooper shifts seamlessly between being a vulnerable child and an angry young man, capturing the complexities of the role with a depth far beyond his years.

But it’s also because we could all be Eddie and Manda, brutally awoken one morning to watch your beautiful child taken away for committing a shocking, unforgivable crime. Adolescence isn’t your typical crime drama, because Jamie comes from a good family – there’s no abuse or trauma here that explains why a young boy would leave home one night and stab his classmate to death. It’s the improbability of the crime that makes this show so shocking, as it reveals that the biggest danger our children face today may not be crossing the road or going out to a party, but at home, shut away in their bedrooms on their phones. 

Adolescence is about male rage and how our young people are becoming radicalised by a digital world their parents don’t understand (this great piece from Thorne explains how Jamie is like him – “but he had the internet to read at night, whereas I had Terry Pratchett and Judy Blume”). Eddie and Manda spent their formative years dancing to A-Ha; their son spent it in his bedroom discovering Andrew Tate. This is the truly terrifying part of Adolescence: how do we really know what’s going on in our children’s lives, and how do we protect them? 

Adolescence is a rare feat of television excellence. There is no weak point here: the acting fills you with awe while also breaking your heart, the writing is authentic, and the one-shot format grabs you, pulls you in and refuses to let you go. And through every gripping moment, an uneasy ache builds in the pit of your stomach, because this series doesn’t give us any answers. Instead, Adolescence is a cry for help, a series that jolts us into asking the hard questions about who we’re letting our children become. 

Adolescence is available now on Netflix.

From mockery and snobbery to mainstream appeal – the University of Auckland Anime and Manga Club has seen it all.

As one of Japan’s biggest exports, anime has taken over almost every corner of planet Earth. If you have ever watched an episode of Beyblade or Yu-Gi-Oh after school, you have consumed it. Are there scientists on Antarctica’s Scott Base currently playing Pokémon Go? Yes. 

What about closer to home? Auckland, specifically? 

If I do a quick Google image search for “University of Auckland Anime and Manga Club”, the first picture will be an extremely cringe-inducing poster stapled to a hallway in 2014. It still makes the rounds on the internet every month, gathering thousands of likes. The algorithm will never let anime fans forget that somewhere in New Zealand, a group of weebs gather for their weekly weeb session. Seriously, I have had DMs from people in Norway about this – I was the one that made the club logo, after all. 

Comments vary. “Are they trying to decrease the club membership?” to “I didn’t know UoA even had one of these” to “Might join for sh*ts and giggles”. All were fair and representative of the views on a fringe hobby in the mid-2010s. 

When the UoAAMC was first formed in 2013 by co-presidents Azul and Dana, they occupied a tiny table at the UoA Club Expo during Orientation Week. When I walked past them with a few of my high school friends, one of them said “OMG Melissa, you should join!” in a joking, please-don’t-destroy-your-social-reputation kind of way. She meant well, truly. For anyone growing up in the 2000s in regional Aotearoa, anime was a shadow hobby, reserved typically for the quiet, socially awkward kids with few friends except on Tumblr, a kind of social suicide. As an extrovert who happened to watch clinically insane amounts of anime, I immediately joined, almost out of spite for her comment. I accidentally ticked a box volunteering to be an executive member, sent in my application paragraph…. then suddenly, I was dedicating almost 20 hours a week to help run events with a group of equally dedicated people. 

That poster (one of a dozen or so designs) became our claim to fame, brainchild of exec Chuan, who rightly believed that all publicity is good publicity and that we might as well capitalise on the stereotypes of anime to capture attention. Once they met us, people would realise we were legitimate. 

It worked, big time. 

Membership ballooned to over 1,000, word spread about our twice-weekly events, our Club Expo table became a whole gazebo. The University of Auckland specially created the People’s Choice Club Award category for the UoAAMC in 2015 due to the number of overwhelmingly detailed, heartfelt submissions. When the club won Cultural Club of the Year in 2016, we knew we were onto something much bigger than anticipated. 

To my high school friend who was worried for my social life: funnily enough, when you spend long periods of time with like-minded people who share your hobby without judgement, social relationships tend to be formed. Members gained lifelong friendships, romantic relationships (formed and dissolved), insights into other walks of life, and their first attempts at project management. I started dating the club treasurer, Thomas, in 2014 and married him in 2024! Indubitably, UoAAMC is the most important social club I have ever joined – nowhere else could I have found such an amazingly creative, hospitable, passionate and caring group of people (who also know how to have a laugh at themselves). Thank god my friend gave me the push I needed to join. 

As our beloved club turns 12 years old and heads into its teenage years, I found myself back at the University of Auckland in 2025 to pursue a master’s degree. The first thing I did was hop onto the UoAAMC Linktree and dust off my original membership card. I needed to see where things had gone since I graduated in 2018. 

Cue Club Day 2025: Did I feel like a fossil at the ripe old age of 30, trying to fit in with Gen Z? My back hurts typing this sentence. The biggest difference I noticed was how proudly the anime and manga fans carry themselves now, as opposed to when I was a child. By carry, I mean literally carry – anime shirts, bag charms, phone cases and accessories were EVERYWHERE, in public! The social energy was infectious, a far cry from the days of hiding on Tumblr. 

I am not entirely sure who to thank most for this cultural shift – our streaming service overlords that make anime accessible, the fashion trend of bag charms, the volunteers at anime conventions, or the creators in Japan who have churned out modern day hits such as Attack on Titan, Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen to introduce new fans to this medium. The social de-stigmatisation of Japanese pop culture and the move away from stereotypes are what current UoAAMC President, Mike, also loves to see. 

Members express that the club is a haven of self-expression and their home away from home – many would go so far as to say it is the best part of their university experience. The founders didn’t have such ambitions – or so Azul would say. What started out as a place to talk about anime turned into a legacy of fostering a welcoming community and making lifelong connections, something that will stand the test of time. A prevailing theme throughout anime is the courage to go against the grain of society and attain success by means of sacrifice, self-improvement and friendship – a club built on mutual love for this medium was always bound for success. The passion of anime fans is remarkable, and I am honored to have met them all. Case and point: Azul still flies back from Europe annually to volunteer at the Overload convention.

Today, the UoAAMC can be found continuing its mission of serving as a place where one can truly express themselves and their interests. Talented members also animate, draw, sing and edit original works in its J-music subgroup. We can be found online, twice a week on campus, and at Overload – New Zealand’s largest annual anime and manga convention happening April 26-27 (Anzac weekend) in Auckland. To join UoAAMC, you don’t have to be a student at all! Come to Overload to meet us in person or join via online submission – if you are curious about anime/manga/J-music in general, I am sure our many members would be more than happy to give their honest recommendations.

I only have one piece of advice for my fellow nerds with obscure hobbies, looking for friends or love: Genuinely dedicate yourself to something like a club, anywhere. It is an attractive trait to be passionate, even more attractive to volunteer your time for something you love, and through teamwork you will gain insight into yourself and others. It worked for us. 

PS. The DM from Norway came from a place of envy – they desperately wanted to be part of an anime club but didn’t have one locally. The poster totally worked, thanks Chuan.